


Refining Gold (Beautiful Mess Remix)

by danceswithgary



Series: Refining Gold [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-18
Updated: 2008-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The crash had been a shock for all of them. The instantaneous loss of power had left John piloting the equivalent of a large rock.</i> John and Rodney spend some quality time in the desert.  My original remixed for artword 012 - Second Chances Challenge. The rework was based on gingertheory's 'Beautiful Mess'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Refining Gold (Beautiful Mess Remix)

[Click for gingertheory's Art Remix - Beautiful Mess](http://gingertheory.livejournal.com/126867.html)

_As fire refines gold, so suffering refines virtue._ : Chinese proverb

**Refining Gold (Beautiful Mess Remix)**

"Get your fat ass off the ground, McKay. I'm not carrying you all the way back to the gate."

"My ass is not fat, Major...."

"Colonel...and you're right, it's not so much fat as...ripe. Like the world's most perfect peach, the kind with that soft fuzz you can feel tickling against your tongue before you bite...."

"All right! I'm up! And walking...see me walking towards the gate? And for the record, _Colonel_, no one will be left wondering about your stance on 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' if you keep stumbling around composing sonnets about my _ass_."  


  
~/~/~/~

  
The bleak landscape held no promise beyond a cryptic reference in the Ancient database about a weapon and the anomalous energy signature reported by the MALP. Sand and rock baked beneath a blistering sun, heat rising in a shimmering mirage telling lies of distant oceans. Reading the temperature from a remote gauge could never truly convey the impact of emerging into a blast furnace, the instant desiccation of delicate tissues nurtured in the soft air of a floating city.

"I know you're dedicated to the pursuit of physical fitness, Colonel, but there is no way we're going to be able to hike anywhere in this heat." The querulous voice of Atlantis' chief scientist disturbed the perfect silence of the arid landscape, an irritant demanding soothing before it escalated. "Not only do we not register on the life signs detector due to some sort of background interference, there's always the ever-present danger of sunstroke, sunburn, sun poisoning...."

Rubbing the back of his neck as if the stinging words had raised a welt, John squinted against the sun and uttered the necessary pacifying words. "I'd say 'it's not the heat, it's the humidity,' but we're missing half of the equation." Holding up a hand to forestall a new complaint, he laughingly reassured the sputtering man, "Relax, Rodney. I'm not planning to re-enact _Lawrence of Arabia_, especially seeing as there's a distinct lack of camels."

"Camels?"

Ronon's growled question left the scientist and the pilot scrambling for an explanation, Rodney winning the contest with a smirk. "Remember horses? They were the animals the cowboys rode in _Tombstone_, which is, of course, one of the Colonel's favorite movies since it's filled with guns and death and mayhem and men coughing up lungs..."

"Rodney...."

Rolling his eyes at John's drawled warning, Rodney continued his convoluted definition, "...a camel is like a horse with a hump in the middle of its back where it stores fat. It's uniquely suited for deserts because it can go for long periods without food and water, using its stored resources instead of eating anything that isn't nailed down." A flinty glare in the tall alien's direction made it clear that Rodney still hadn't forgiven the recent loss of his hoarded chocolate.

Ronon raised an eyebrow at John's badly suppressed laughter and interrupted Rodney's detour into a list of his transgressions, "A horse...with a hump."

"Yes, well, except for the fact that they don't have hooves, their tails are shorter and skinnier and their necks are longer and they spit and...." Rodney's voice trailed off as Ronon shook his head in patent disbelief before disappearing back inside the jumper. Narrowing his eyes at John's widening grin, Rodney grumbled. "Fine, next time _you_ describe one. After all, explaining to Teyla and Ronon why a laden swallow is so amusing worked well for you a few weeks ago."

Restraining an impulse to roll his eyes, John reached out and grabbed Rodney's shoulder, spinning him around to face the jumper's interior. "Go sit down, Rodney, so we can see if there are any sheiks with dancing girls waiting out there for us."

"Sure, that's all we need. I've always wanted to be staked out in the desert sun because a certain someone can't keep his hands off the harem."  


  
~/~/~/~

  
"We really shouldn't be walking out here in the middle of the day, Major. It would be much more sensible to find some shelter and travel in the early morning and at dusk. Even the sunscreen I developed for myself can't cope with this level of UV exposure, not to mention the increased risk of dehydration...."

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's _Colonel_? You wouldn't have to worry so much about dehydration if you'd just shut the fuck up, McKay!"

"That's helpful, isn't it? I was trying to make the point that we're more likely to actually reach the gate alive if we try to take better care of ourselves along the way. You should drink something, too. No use letting yourself get too weak too soon. And no nonsense about saving the water for me and ending up dying of thirst with a full canteen...because I still have plenty left in my own canteens and you'll probably end up having to go on ahead without me and you'll need...."

"Not leaving you behind, McKay. Just keep walking."  


  
~/~/~/~

  
"So I'm thinking that the only good thing about having a three-person team this time out is that we don't have to divide the food and water between four." Rodney's normally strident tones had softened to something just above a mumble, the words barely discernible with his forehead balanced on his drawn-up knees. The chemical cold pack he was holding to the side of his head displayed a creeping pink stain, and John winced when he tried to imagine the headache that the other man had to be suffering from.

"No problem, McKay. If I get too hungry, I'll finally get to find out if you taste like chicken." Ronon's low rumble of laughter was severed by a hiss of pain as John tightened the bindings on the field splint supporting Ronon's broken leg. "I changed my mind, Sheppard. You're first on the menu."

"No, never mind, let's not talk about...." The sound of retching brought John to his feet, torn between helping to support Rodney's head through the heaves and adding his own contribution to the reeking mess now decorating the jumper's wall. Fortunately, for all their sakes, he was able to quell his rising gorge and return to tending the rest of Ronon's injuries, ignoring his own bruises and strains.

After applying the last pressure bandage to the slash on the big man's arm, John patted his shoulder awkwardly. "That's the best I can do for now. Carson will fix you up a lot better when we get back."

"And just how do you think that's going to happen, Colonel? Did I miss something vital when we were assessing the fact that we're currently sitting powerless in the middle of the equivalent of an elephant's graveyard except it's the metal skeletons of Wraith darts and miscellaneous other vehicles that are scattered over a radius of approximately one hundred miles of uncharted desert?" Rodney's obvious pain and nausea from his concussion had been shoved aside in favor of a tirade over their circumstances. Waving the cold pack around to emphasize his points, Rodney regaled the rest of the team with his usual prediction of death, doom and destruction. "Oh, wait! There's more! Any rescue team coming after us will either suffer the same fate or is going to miss us completely because _we won't register on any detectors_."

John couldn't really blame Rodney for his dismal outlook. The jumper crash had been a shock for all of them. An unexpected and instantaneous loss of power had left John piloting the equivalent of a large rock. Gravity had won an uncontested battle, and they were damned lucky to be alive and conscious enough to complain. Crumpled metal and spider-webbed glass provided little to salvage and nothing to repair. Sighing, John accepted the fact that he was the only mobile member of the team and declared, "I'm going outside to find a place to set up some shade. We'll boil if we stay inside here."

The silence that greeted his announcement didn't make him feel any better.  


  
~/~/~/~

  
"Rodney, you're awful quiet over there. The heat getting to you?"

"_Now_ you want me to talk, Major? What is it with you anyway? I seem to recall that you told me to 'shut the fuck up' not too long ago."

"It's Colonel...fuck...you know what? I don't care anymore, Rodney. Call me Major or Sheppard or...hey, what the hell...go crazy and actually use _John_ for once."

"I've called you John before."

"Not very often, Rodney. We've been through a lot together and still...there you are...ten feet away from me. You'd be even farther than that, if it wouldn't move you out of the shade."

"Pot, kettle. It's not as though your barriers go down very often. Any time someone gets too close to you, I expect a proximity alarm to go off screaming 'Danger, John Sheppard. Danger!'"

"Gotta love those whirling robot hands, McKay...but jeez...your wrists really are limp, aren't they?"

"Can we just go back to the bad metaphors using peaches? That particular flight of fancy sounded a hell of lot less stereotypically homophobic. Better yet, take a drink and then let's start walking toward the gate again. After all, Ronon's not going to magically heal himself and run ahead to save us the trip."  


  
~/~/~/~

  
"We don't split up the team, Rodney!"

"Colonel, it's the only logical thing to do. As much as I'm enjoying our sojourn in the bright and colorful Pegasus version of the Bermuda Triangle, the amenities leave much to be desired. Let's face it...the search teams aren't going to find us here. They're going to head in the direction of the original energy reading, just like we did, but _they_ aren't going to be tempted to take a side trip to explore the shiny place at the base of the mountains, unlike a certain pilot who suddenly channeled a magpie." Rodney halted his compulsive pacing a few feet from John, pale hands perched on his hips, blue eyes snapping with ill-temper. "The closer I get to the gate, the better the chance I'll have of being spotted from the air...assuming anyone will be looking."

"McKay's right, Sheppard." The cough that accompanied Ronon's approval of the plan worried John. The larger man had taken the brunt of the damage during the crash, providing an inadvertent cushion for both Rodney's and John's tumble across the plummeting jumper. It was entirely possible his broken ribs had managed to puncture something vital, and every minute they spent arguing wasted Ronon's waning strength.

The lifeless rainbow of heat-blasted carcasses surrounding them only emphasized Rodney's relentless logic. Frowning at the bitter choice he was being forced to make, John closed his eyes and nodded in defeat. "All right, you win. This is how we're going to do it."  


  
~/~/~/~

  
"Huh. Three moons _and_ an aurora. Seems a bit extravagant for this desert hell. I suppose having enough light to be able to stumble across the desert at night is an advantage, but you never rested as I suggested, Major. I've been fortunate enough to witness both the aurora borealis and the aurora australis during my exiles to the opposite ends of Earth, now I get to add to my collection. An interesting statistic about the phenomenon was the two-hour conversation held over telegraph lines in 1859 using no generated power. At that time, a geomagnetically induced current was generated by the one of the most intense coronal mass ejections in history, very near the maximum intensity our sun is thought to be capable of producing. Considering our current situation, I suppose I shouldn't be terribly surprised by its appearance in the atmosphere here. It could very well account for at least some of the difficulty we encountered with the scanner when we came through the gate."

"And it's pretty, too. You know, Rodney, I'm really not homophobic."

"Interesting segue there...from celestial rainbows to declarations regarding sexual proclivities. Well, that's very good to hear, Major. That means there'll be one less person I'll need to avoid late at night when I'm walking the corridors alone on the way to my quarters."

"Considering what could happen if...you...you're pretty casual about...."

"Yes, Maj...John. It's never been a big secret that I'm bisexual. I just don't make it a habit of shouting it on high. God, we're friends, you're probably the best friend I've ever had and, after all our flirting and innuendo and teasing...I'm honestly surprised that it surprises you. We've come pretty damn close more than once, and _you're_ the one that keeps backing away in some sort of gay freakout about-face."

"I...I wasn't freaking out...I mean...."

"Relax, John. You're safe inside your military-issue closet. I'm not going to jump you when your guard is down. I know you're not really interested in me that way...despite all the evidence to the contrary. Just take another drink and put on more sunscreen...so you aren't courting skin cancer so diligently. We still have a long way to go before we're out of this mess."  


  
~/~/~/~

  
By the time the first few miles had unwound beneath his scuffed boots, the jumper had disappeared inside the skeletal jungle of derelicts, one of many that had come to grief on the desolate planet over untold years. John had to agree once more that Rodney had been right. The search teams would have missed them too easily in their sweeps unless they decided to investigate the deadly rainbow sheen that had proved too tempting for John to resist. The open desert was their only hope for rescue. He shifted the pack higher on his shoulder and kept walking in the direction that Rodney insisted was correct, ignoring the dancing sun devils taunting their shambling progress.  


  
~/~/~/~

  
"You're wrong about me. I am interested in you, Rodney. I have been, right from the beginning. It's just the damn rules, my career in the Air Force...I could lose my chance to fly if anyone...."

"Sometimes you just have to ask yourself whether the potential reward is worth the gamble, John. Your life can't always be settled by the toss of a coin."

"You bastard! Where do you get off telling me...?"

"You think I don't know what it's like to take a chance? I walked through the gate on Earth knowing the odds were astronomically high that I might never come back. Hell, I'm fully aware that, when it comes down to it, I'm a coward most of the time. I also know that at least once...I weighed the options and took a life-altering risk. Oddly enough, it's turned out that walking through these gates...following you into the unknown...has gotten easier every time I do it."

"Damn it, Rodney. I don't think you're a coward. You've been there every time we needed you, even when there was every reason to think you were going to end up hurt or...worse. That's one of the things I really admire about you. Considering I'm afraid to try something as simple as kissing someone I.... I don't know what I'm trying to say here...except...has it all been worth it?"

"Will my answer make any difference to yours?"  


  
~/~/~/~

  
"Carson, he's waking up!" John's lips twitched into a painful smile at Rodney's piercing stage whisper summoning the head physician. The doctor's familiar accent, along with the sounds and smell of the infirmary, meant they'd made it back. Struggling against the lingering haze of exhaustion during Carson's examination, John could detect Rodney hovering nearby, even with his eyes closed.

He and Rodney had walked through the desert together.

"Made it." His rasping croak was startling. He'd sounded better out walking under the sun.

"Actually, not really." The strained note in Rodney's voice induced John to open painfully sore eyes. He blinked up at lights degrees kinder than the unfiltered rays that had blistered his face and seared his eyelids. "We picked you up about ten miles short of the gate, three-quarters dead and hallucinating."

Rodney's open face telegraphed his thoughts, even under the thick coating of anesthetic cream coating his sun-reddened face. When John grimaced in sympathy, he could feel the same preparation adhering to his own damaged skin and lips. Grateful for the understanding, Rodney continued, "Still pretty impressive, the number of miles you traveled in that heat. I have to admit that I never would have made it that far. It ended up being a good plan...having me stay behind at the jumper with Ronon."

The ice chips Rodney carefully placed on his tongue helped moisten the parched tissues of John's throat enough to allow him to ask his burning question, "How?"

"I did some extrapolation based on what we'd been able to see before we crashed, correlated that with the scatter patterns of the debris, and then found the beam's transmitter buried under an enormous cairn. After I was able to shut it off...."

"You should see the walls of the jumper. They're covered with numbers. McKay is weird." John turned his head toward Ronon's gravelly voice and smiled to see the other man lying in the bed next to his. "I never did get to find out what he tastes like...."

"And thank you, Colonel, for leaving me alone with this galaxy's answer to Hannibal Lector. I was sure I was going to wake up one morning and find myself garnished with fava beans...."

John rolled his head back and tried to dam the flood of relieved babble. "Rodney."

Rodney's eyes had never left John's face, as if he were afraid John would disappear if he looked away. "Of course, I probably would go well with Chianti...."

"Rodney."

"Colonel?"

"John. Call me John." He reached out to cover Rodney's hand where it clenched tight around the bed's safety rail, the bruised fist white with strain. Rodney's eyes widened and he glanced around the infirmary, checking for any witnesses other than Ronon, who had the nerve to grin cheekily at both men. John chuckled and squeezed with sore fingers. "I have my answer, Rodney."

Rodney was obviously baffled and on the verge of calling Carson back in to re-check his patient for hidden damage. "J...John? I don't understand."

"It's okay, I do. I thought about _us_...out there...and there were no coins involved."

A laser-sharp gaze studied John's face, missing nothing. A smile raised the corners of Rodney's frown and his other hand crept up to stroke John's sunburned knuckles gently. "And the answer?"

"You're worth the risk."

**Author's Note:**

> _ Going out of my mind these days,  
> Like I'm walkin' round in a haze.  
> I can't think straight, I can't concentrate.  
> And I need a shave._   
> Diamond Rio - Beautiful Mess (Completely 2002)


End file.
